


Quicken To The New Life

by handlebarstiedtothestars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fic (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Footnotes, Good Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Kid Fic, Male Crowley (Good Omens), Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Snapshots, T-rated for the one Valentines cinema trip, Wish Fulfillment, a little swearing, all the comedy is in the footnotes, goodomensholidayswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlebarstiedtothestars/pseuds/handlebarstiedtothestars
Summary: They really hadn’t expected this.“I – bu– w– I – how??” Crowley stumbled over syllables as he stared at the baby in his arms.Written for the Good Omens Holiday Swap. Snapshots of Crowley and Fem!Aziraphale's life together raising kids in the two decades after Armageddon't. Featuring pregnancy, babies, toddlers and teenagers, a little everyday family drama but predominantly cuteness and silliness and domestic family fluff. Including 3 family Christmases over the years. Cameos from grown up Adam and Warlock, and elderly Shadwell and Tracy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 149
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	1. Wednesday 26th August 2020

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aziraphaleangelbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziraphaleangelbaby/gifts).



> So, this is a gift for AziraphaleAngelBaby for the Good Omens Holiday Swap! I reeeeeally hope you like it! The prompt asked for was: “Fem Aziraphale and Male Crowley dealing with human life along with children they had as a couple.” I’ve taken “dealing with human life” not so much as them *being* human, just more them having to cope with living in the human world with a family. And since it’s the holidays and Christmas is the one we tend to do in England, I’ve included 3 Christmases because I couldn’t resist cosy Christmas family time <3 FYI this fic is *pure* family wish fulfilment and there’s lots of happy cosy family stuff. Kid #1’s name is just my favourite name, and I think you’ll all be able to guess where I pulled kid #2’s name from. I don’t have any kids and so I honestly thought this was going to be too much of a challenge, and that I would barely hit the minimum word count. As you can see, things got wildly out of hand 😅. Title is taken from The Prophet’s Song by Queen. Big thanks to Lurlur and Katrina for beta-reading this! Happy Holidays everyone <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley get an unexpected surprise.

They hadn’t expected this. Perhaps one could say they had overdone the whole “making up lost time” thing. Maybe they hadn’t left Aziraphale’s bedroom for what polite company would consider an unreasonable amount of time in the weeks following the failed Armageddon. Maybe Crowley had noticed odd things in the subsequent months like Aziraphale going off the taste of wine and craving sushi wrapped in crepes, pickled gherkin cake, and oysters topped with Marmite. Maybe he noticed she often snapped over minor disagreements and got cuddly and tearful afterwards. He had assumed Aziraphale was just adjusting to a non-Heavenly life. They really hadn’t expected this. 

“I – bu– w– I – how??” Crowley stumbled over syllables as he stared at the baby in his arms. Aziraphale winced as she tried to sit up in the hospital bed, a sheen of sweat daring to remain on her anointed brow. 

They had come to the hospital expecting it to be some sort of stomach issue – there was no going back to Heaven for a new corporation now, and it was better to get these things sorted by humans who knew what they were doing. 11 hours and 6 minutes after the pains started – Crowley noted the time with some anxiety – a baby entered their lives. [1]

“So… is it human?” Aziraphale asked, grimacing as she tried to get comfortable. 

“She,” Crowley mumbled, running a finger gently over their little girl’s nose. She wriggled it but didn’t wake. The last newborn he had handled had been Adam, not that he had been called that at the time.

“Or is it an angel? Or a demon? If we even count as those anymore after everything… Or is it some mixture of both? Perhaps like the Nephilim but… more demonic?”

“SHE, angel.”

“Oh good _lord_ , Crowley, we can’t handle _children_. We never planned for this.”

“I know,” Crowley said softly. Ever since he had been handed the little girl, he had noticed a swooping sensation in his stomach that reminded him of when he had first met Aziraphale and found out what had happened to the flaming sword. _Love_ , he thought, _but different_. He cuddled the baby’s soft head gently under his jaw. The new baby smell was intoxicating, the urge to keep her close against him and protect her was overwhelming. “I know, but… well she’s here now.”

Aziraphale sighed, “I suppose she is.” She side-eyed Crowley. “And I can see that you’re irretrievably besotted.”

“Hmm?” Crowley looked up.

Aziraphale rolled her eyes, “Fine. I’m sure we can find a suitable nanny to bring her up.”

“WE ARE NOT GETTING A NANNY!” Crowley hissed, startling the little girl awake, her face turning an alarming shade of purple-red as she began to wail. Crowley soothed and rocked her, and in a miraculously short time she was once again asleep, peachy-pink faced, breathing softly against his chest. Crowley pushed his hair back with his free hand, a look of relief crossing his face before he scowled at Aziraphale. “We are _not_ getting a nanny,” he whispered, “We aren’t going to be _those_ parents.”

“Hmm. I suppose upbringing _is_ everything. Look how Warlock turned out…”

“ _EXCUSE ME_ – _”_ Crowley began to growl, but caught himself, continuing quietly, “ _what are you saying about my childcare skills??”_

“Not you, dear boy, you were a wonderful nanny. I meant because his parents were, well, never really around.”

“Oh,” Crowley shrank back, all the irritation and annoyance gone instantly from his face as he looked back at their little girl, “Yeah. That’s…that’s my point.”

They were silent for a few moments, Crowley watching the baby, and Aziraphale watching Crowley. Her face softened and she patted the bed next to her, “Come here, you two.”

“I thought the nurse said I wasn’t allowed to sit on the bed?”

“Nonsense.” Aziraphale reached up and hesitantly took the baby. Crowley helped her position the child so that her head was supported and squeezed himself onto the edge of the bed to curl around them both. He placed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple and she hummed, leaning into it. Their baby seemed to snuggle in too, her lips a perfect cupid’s bow pout as she slept.

“I suppose,” Aziraphale continued, “Well, I suppose we deserve a bit of a break from everything, don’t we? We did save the world after all...”

“Wellllll, we were there.”

“Quite. What I’m trying to say is, maybe, uh, that is, it would be nice to… live in it. Together. As a family.” She blushed, looking away from Crowley at the pink-faced bundle in her arms. “She is beautiful. Do you know, I think she has your nose,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. A little family. He never thought he would ever be part of a family, not really.[2]

“Oh, Heavens.” Aziraphale looked up at him. “We have to think of a name! Well now, let’s think…”

“Aziraphale after her mother? Ashtoreth after her dad??” Crowley teased, and they both giggled quietly, “No maybe not. Um…”

“What about ‘Agnes’? She saved our lives, in a way?” Aziraphale offered.

“Er, bit old fashioned?”

“Yes, perhaps…Oh look, her hair looks like it might be red. Scarlett?”

“Ngk, nah, I think that was War’s alias.”

“Oh. Perhaps not then. Oh, Eve?” Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley.

“Um…maybe as a middle name?”

“Alright, let’s keep thinking.”

They stared at her for so long they lost track of time, but they never got bored. Eventually the midwife came in to check them over. 

“You did very well for a first baby, you know,” the midwife was saying, “A lot of first-time mother’s get very panicky. You were so calm. Have you done one of those – uh, oh now, what are they – oh yes – those hypno-birthing courses?”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale asked, yawning.

“Yeah,” Crowley answered from across the room, lying with ease as he rocked the baby, “Yeah we did.”

“Ooh they are wonderful I hear. A bit modern for me, but then I’ve seen a lot of fads come and go, and that one seems to have stuck around,” she shrugged, “Who knows, it seems to be working for you anyway.” She checked her upside-down watch and then looked between the besotted father and the dozing mother and smiled, “Ah, poor pet. Your wife needs her rest. Why don’t you two take a seat in the armchair over here – it rocks too, you know – there’s a call button on the wall right there, yes, yes, just there. My name’s Aubrey, and the team that are on tonight are really lovely. If you need anything at all just press it.”

Crowley shuffled back into the seat as the midwife left. He looked down at the snoozing cherub in his arms, “Hmm… Aubrey…” The baby opened her deep ocean-blue eyes.

“What do _you_ think? Agnes? Eve?”

She stared at him, frowning for a moment as she tried to focus her eyes and instead found herself squinting.

“Or… Aubrey?”

The baby seemed to find a point of focus and smiled, all gums, before her eyes drooped back down and she settled peacefully back to sleep against his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1As if a 666-minute labour wasn’t enough to put Crowley on edge, when the staff picked up the baby to be washed and weighed, Crowley followed them across the room, panic-strickenly explaining he had some past experience with baby mix ups and no offence but he just didn’t trust anyone these days. The midwife and HCA gently explained they could do it all without leaving the room, and Crowley slunk back to the corner chair, flushed and grumbling.[return to text]  
> 
> 
> 2As Crowley pondered this, a double-fronted, four-bedroom detached house in the suburbs, miraculously or otherwise, found its ‘For Sale’ sign changed to ‘Sold’. Neither of them ever admitted to being the one would had wished it into reality.[return to text]


	2. Thursday 24 December 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey's first Christmas.

Crowley was fighting with the tangle of Christmas tree lights. The tree was far too small to take them, and they would probably have to be wrapped around twice.

“And _you_ ,” he fixed the browning runt of a Christmas tree with a stern eye, “You are a pitiful excuse for a Christmas tree and I have a zero tolerance for laziness. You are to look as evergreen and proud as you possibly can. I want every needle standing to attention, is that understood?”

Their room wasn’t high enough for the best trees, and Aziraphale had insisted there was absolutely no point in buying one anyway.

“She’s 4 months old, dear boy, she won’t remember this.”

“But it’s an _investment_ , angel, a tree like this can live for years.”

She had rolled her eyes and wandered about, eventually deciding she liked this little one in the back corner of the garden centre, arguing it was still an investment because Crowley was good with plants and could coax it to full potential. 

This seemed to be true now as the tree was making an effort to look taller and fuller already.[3] Still, as he finished putting the lights up, Crowley growled at it once more, “Grow better _._ ”

He was halfway through putting the baubles up when he heard the tell-tale wail that meant Aubrey was awake, and either hungry or in need of a change.[4] He tried not to think about the phrase “evil does not sleep”, no matter how tired he was, no matter how grumpy both he and Aziraphale were getting. She wasn’t a demon, or at least not fully a demon, although sometimes at 03:00 when she’d been changed, fed, soothed and still wouldn’t stop crying, sometimes he started to wonder if the combination of demon and bastard wasn’t too much for one tiny body. 

Placing the red apple ornament he had been holding carefully back into the box, he swept up the stairs and into their bedroom as quickly and quietly as he could, in the hopes that she hadn’t woken up –

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale was sitting in the darkness, illuminated only by the light from the corridor, feeding Aubrey. Her hair was all over the place and knotted, and she looked like she might fall asleep or burst into tears at any second.

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley sighed, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to her, “You’re supposed to be asleep. It’s my turn tonight.”

“It’s fine. I was here and she needs feeding.”

“I know but we have the bottles downstairs.”

“It’s fine. I couldn’t have slept through it.”

Crowley wrapped his arm around the back of Aziraphale’s shoulders, and she snuggled into him as much as she could. He loosely and absentmindedly worked his fingers through the ends of her hair, getting some of the knots out. The grey room started to swim in front of him, and his hand ceased its ministrations as his chin tipped onto his chest. 

“The nurse called yesterday,” Aziraphale mumbled, waking Crowley up.

“Hmm?” he raised his eyebrows, trying to look less asleep as Aziraphale shifted positions to burp Aubrey.

“With the results from the last visit. She said Aubrey’s underweight.”

Crowley eyed their milk-drunk daughter and wagged a sarcastic finger at her, “ _Grow better._ ”

“Don’t you _dare_ speak to our angel the way you speak to your plants, Crowley, how on earth can you think that’s funny?? _”_ Aziraphale hissed, and Aubrey promptly vomited milk down her back before bursting into tears. Her mother quickly followed suit.

“I just feel like I’m not doing anything right,” Aziraphale sobbed as Crowley mopped Aubrey up with one of the spare blankets and rocked her gently.

“Angel, you’re doing great.”

“Well I’m obviously not if she’s not growing!!” Aziraphale snapped, and her face crumpled, “But I don’t think you could get any more milk in her, she’s hungry all the time!”

Crowley frowned down at the purple-faced little girl. “Maybe it’s allergies or something, I don’t know.” At this Aziraphale began to sob anew, proclaiming once more how dreadful a job she was doing, how unworthy she was to be a mother.

“Hey, _hey_!” Crowley sat down next to her, and took her hand in his, “Look at me. You are doing _great._ Ignore that nurse. All babies are different, maybe she’s going to have a growth spurt. If we’re still worried after Christmas, we’ll mention it.”

“But what if something happens to her _over_ Christmas??”

“The hospitals don’t close, angel. And we won’t need them anyway. We’ll be fine. She’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.” 

This pacified Aziraphale but did nothing for Aubrey.

“Now,” Crowley kissed his wife lightly on the lips, “Go shower – I’ll stay here and sort everything out.”

“But –” 

“Now. We’re fine.”

With Aziraphale gone, Crowley set Aubrey down to quickly mop up the sofa. Then, gathering her up in his arms, he set about rocking, bouncing, swaying around the room with the howling little girl, talking to her in soothing tones. It was only when he started to hum the tune of the lullaby he had sung to Warlock that she began to quiet. As soon as he reached the end she whinged again, stirring.

“Alright,” Crowley whispered, “Although, can’t say I want you to ‘dream of pain’. Heh. How hard can it be to make up new words…” He thought for a moment and then began to croon softly.

 _Go to sleep we beg of you,  
_ _Dream of nice things while you do,  
_ _Mum and Dad are really frayed,  
_ _Go to sleep my darling babe._

Miraculously, she was completely out when he laid her down in the cot, quietly snoring as he continued to hum the tune through again.

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, freshly showered and wrapped up in towels. Crowley checked the floor for any trip hazards or, worse, squeaky toys, and tiptoed his way over to sneak up and seize her in his arms. She was damp but toasty warm, and he couldn’t resist licking a stripe up her neck.

“Cr-OH-wley,” she whined, trying to keep her voice down, “I’m so tired.”

“I know, angel,” Crowley squeezed her, kissing her jaw before letting go, “C’mon.”

He threw off all his clothes except his underwear and jumped into the large bed to warm it up. There was no need, Aziraphale was still hot to the touch when she finally slipped under the duvet and wrapped herself around the lithe demon. Soft, sleepy kisses and whispered endearments passed between them, and all too soon they were fast asleep, entangled together. 

Aubrey actually slept through until 5am for the first time. Aziraphale was a little concerned when she woke to see it was snowing on Christmas Day, wondering if their daughter had, much like the Antichrist, summoned perfect weather for the time of year. Crowley had zero concerns, having already whisked Aubrey downstairs and wrapped her up in her little snowsuit onesie to take her outside and show her the winter wonderland of their garden. A light layer of perfect white snow lay across the lawn, and snowflakes were lazily weaving through the air. One hit Aubrey on the nose and she burst into tears, giving Aziraphale the impression their daughter probably had very little to do with the weather. 

They spent the rest of the day playing with soft teddy bears and garish chunky toy tractors on the living room floor, thrilled to see Christmas cards from the Dowlings, the Youngs, and the Shadwells. 

“We really should invite them one year,” Aziraphale said as she set the cards on top of the mantlepiece.

“Mm,” Crowley nodded, making the tractor fly over Aubrey as he made whooshing noises. He looked around at the yellow-lit room, the twinkling Christmas tree doing a very good impression of a tall healthy evergreen, the wood-burner softly glowing. “I do like that it’s just us this year.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale whispered conspiratorially, crinkling up her nose as she smiled.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 Mostly out of sheer terror; it had spotted the woodburning stove across the room and had no desire to become kindling by January.[return to text]  
> 
> 
> 4 Or both. Why was it so often both at the same time?[return to text]  
> 


	3. Tuesday 3 May 2022

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family go for a walk around St James' Park, and return home for a sleepy afternoon.

A glorious morning had broken, and Aziraphale argued that anyone with any sense should be out in the sunshine on a day like this. So the three of them, or the four of them depending on how you looked at it, went out for a stroll in St. James’ Park. 

Crowley steered Aubrey in the pushchair, and Aziraphale waddled along beside him, one hand supporting her back.

“Going too fast for you, angel?”

She shot him a look, “ _No_. I’m _fine._ ”

They sauntered vaguely down the path, basking in the early summer sunshine, and stopping in their usual spot by the edge of the water to feed the ducks. The park had banned bread not long ago, so Aziraphale had brought a bag of grapes and peas. It wasn’t nearly so much fun to throw.

“DUCKS!!” Aubrey giggled, and Crowley handed her a few peas. She tried to eat them, and he had to bend down to demonstrate how to throw them. Even with all her strength mustered, her peas never made it any further than the front wheel of the pushchair, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Who would have thought we would be here like this,” Aziraphale mused.

“What d’you mean?” 

“Well… we always met here, you and me, for all those years. And then we thought… well, we could have lost…” Her mouth wobbled and she looked down, throwing another handful of peas before clearing her throat. “And now,” she continued, placing one trembling hand on the pushchair and another on her stomach, “I can hardly believe this is our life some days.”

“Do you wish you could go back to how things were before?”

“ _Lord,_ no,” Aziraphale said, a soft smile lighting up her face. 

There was a loud honk behind them, and they leapt apart. A large swan with pure white angel-like wings and a demonic glint in its eyes had snuck up behind them and was pecking Aziraphale’s closed hand filled with peas.

“Ow!! Be gone foul fiend!” she shouted. Aubrey began to wail. Aziraphale threw the peas across the path, but the swan’s attention had been caught by Aubrey’s cries. It spread its wings wide and flapped them violently, hissing and honking at the shrieking pushchair. Crowley removed his sunglasses and stared it down, hissing back.

The swan held his gaze fearlessly. Then it ran straight at them.

“BACK! BACK TO THE PIT WITH YOU!!!” Crowley yelled as Aziraphale waddled ahead as quickly as she could, Crowley pushing Aubrey with one hand and using the other to fling grapes at the swan’s head.

Aubrey had fallen asleep by the time they were home, and Crowley immediately went upstairs to tuck her into the cot under a tartan duvet for a nap. She was starting to outgrow it, he thought, leaning down to stroke her hair back from her face. He wondered when children were supposed to start sleeping in proper beds. He snuck back out and downstairs only to find the living room empty. 

“Aziraphale??” he called softly.

Listening carefully, he faintly heard Strauss playing. Following the sound, he came to the study door. Aziraphale was laid out on the sofa, snoozing, the shape of her pregnant belly sticking out under the blanket. Sneaking in, he climbed over the back of the sofa and slotted himself in behind her, stealing as much of the blanket as he dared, laying an arm along the curve of her thigh and nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, placing a gentle kiss against her soft skin.

“Hmmm??”

“Ssshh s’ok, angel, go back to sleep.”

“Mmkay.” She snuggled back into him, and they dozed, wrapped up together under the blanket.

Waking with a start, Crowley sat up a little. He thought he had heard something, but when he properly regained his senses and listened all he could hear was that the Strauss was still playing. Aziraphale stirred and rolled towards him, snuggling her face into his chest.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled.

“I know, angel,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “This one seems to be taking it out of you a lot more.”

“Must be an energetic baby,” Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley chuckled, placing a hand carefully on her stomach. There were a few gentle kicks, but nothing particularly lively, “Hmm, feels pretty laid back to me.”

“It must take after you,” Aziraphale smirked, sitting up and stretching with a yawn. Looking over at the side table, she frowned.

“Crowley?”

“Yep?”

“You do realise I’m not allowed to drink for another two months at least?”

“Of course??”

“Why did you get the wine out then?”

“I didn’t,” he frowned, leaning around her to see there was indeed a small bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape there.

“Well if _you_ didn’t…”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then both ran out of the study. Crowley had made it to the top of the stairs before Aziraphale even got to the bottom, shouting back down, “S’ok! Don’t push yourself, I’m sure it’s fine!” 

Reaching Aubrey’s bedroom, he slowly pushed the door open. “Sweetie? Princess? Have you been downsta- ” Crowley stopped in his tracks, his jaw almost unhinging with shock. 

Aubrey was standing in the middle of the room. Another small wine bottle was at her feet, the foil scratched and picked at by tiny sharp fingernails. There were several cuddly toys surrounding the bottle, presumably having some sort of tea party with wine. All over Aubrey’s hands and lower face[5] was semi-melted milk chocolate, from the extra-large bar Aziraphale had been keeping in the bottom of the fridge, now over a quarter eaten.

“Oh, for _Heaven’s_ sake,” Crowley cursed, unable to stop himself laughing, “Never mind a proper bed, I’m getting her a cot with higher sides!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5And, somehow, one eyebrow.[return to text]


	4. Wednesday 14 February 2024

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have a long-deserved Valentines Day Date, and return to chaos.

They were never hiring a babysitter ever again.

When Crowley had opened the pantry door to find Aziraphale hiding from the children and eating cake, he decided it was high time they got out of the house for one evening and had some time to themselves. 

They hadn’t had a proper date since before Oscar was born, and that had been well over a year ago now. They deserved a little time just for them, baby and toddler free. Crowley found a local babysitter with good ratings and lots of good reviews, and made reservations for dinner and the movies, all while searching for Aubrey’s lost doll and Oscar’s left sock.[6]

The girl had seemed proficient and experienced enough, if a little young, and the children seemed to take to her quite quickly, though Aubrey took some coaxing to come out from behind Crowley’s legs.

It had been a clear evening with no rain forecast, so they parked the Bentley a little way out of town and walked in, arms linked and chattering about anything except whether Aubrey was going to school next year or the year after, and whether Oscar should have started talking yet. 

The restaurant was beautiful, with warm red décor, sleek enough for Crowley and eclectic enough for Aziraphale. They were shown to a secluded booth. The atmosphere was relaxing and romantic. Aziraphale had all three courses, sharing a little of her dessert with Crowley. 

Stuffed, they made their way to the cinema and settled into their seats in an almost empty showing of an old classic. If you asked them about the movie plot, the actors, the soundtrack, they couldn’t possibly have told you a single thing. On the other hand, if you asked about the curve of Crowley’s jaw, how his neck tasted, how Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled in the screenlight, the noises she made when Crowley pulled her hair, they might have been able to answer you had their tongues not been so overworked.

It had been a perfect evening. Just what they needed.

Now they wished they hadn’t bothered.

The young girl sharply explained what had happened, barely stopping short of calling the children ‘demonic’ and asking them to please not use the app to contact her again, before storming out of the house. Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was still staring at Aubrey and Oscar, both in their pyjamas and covered head to toe in bright pink bubble bath mixture, blue paint and glitter, a mixture of which they discovered also adorned the walls on the upper landing.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Aziraphale said.

“Just get them in the bath,” Crowley sighed.

Once the children were washed, dried and put to bed, and their ruined clothing was spinning sorrowfully around the washing machine in the hopes they could be saved, the pair surveyed the damage to the walls.

“Can’t say they’re not artistic…”

“No, we certainly cannot,” Aziraphale sighed, wringing out the sponge and starting on the landing. 

They worked their way along in silence, until Crowley hissed and drew his hand back from the wall, his finger burning where it had brushed some paint. “What is this, Holy Water??” He examined the wall more closely and then, frowning, pulled back to look at the bigger picture. Tilting his head, the squiggles and shapes became more familiar. “A… U… B… R… Aziraphale, have you been teaching our daughter Enochian??”

Aziraphale was ignoring him, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of glitter. 

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley growled.

“Yes, _alright_ ,” Aziraphale hissed, throwing the sponge back in the bucket, “I wanted her to learn her mother tongue.”

“You _know_ what anything outright angelic does to me!!”

“Yes, well I didn’t expect her to write it on the walls, did I! I’m sorry!”

They continued in tense silence, and were almost finished when Aziraphale yelped, sucking a burnt finger into her mouth. “Wha iss tha?” she mumbled around it, frowning at the wall. Up close it didn’t look like anything. 

Crowley stood up and took a couple of steps back on the landing, frowning at the squiggly shape. “I don’t really know…”

“Loo luh de emm tweh fy.”

“What?”

Aziraphale took her finger out, examining the small burn mark, “It looks like the M25 – how it looks on maps, don’t you think?”

“Oh fu– move over angel, I’ll take care of this one.”

“Why?”

“Cos… I love you. And you must be tired. Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

“Crowley… what are you hiding from me?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Crowley scoffed, giving her a quick kiss, before turning back to violently scrub the dread sigil odegra in the language of the Black Priesthood of Mu off their ‘Enchanted Eden’ green landing walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 Both were, somehow, behind the fridge. [return to text]


	5. Thursday 2 April 2026

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar and Aziraphale find a shared interest, and Crowley goes to Aubrey's end-of-term parent-teacher evening.

It was quiet. Aziraphale knew by now that that wasn’t good.

She could hear Aubrey playing in her room, giving voices to all her toys.[7]

Aziraphale had, after a panicked fifteen minutes running around the house looking for him, found Oscar on the floor of her study. The little cherub had yanked several large tomes off the bottom shelves and opened them up. They were strewn about the floor around him. Aziraphale grumbled, coming into the room properly. Oscar didn’t look up. Aziraphale could see a few sticky finger marks on the cover of her first edition Jules Verne, and she whined a little.

“Oscar? Sweetie? What have I told you about touching mummy’s books?”

Oscar looked up then and grinned a wide smile with his little pearly teeth. His smile was so much like his daddy’s, it made Aziraphale’s heart swell. Oscar looked back down and tried to pick up one of the large volumes, struggling.

“Oh no, darling,” Aziraphale bent down and scooped the little boy up, “I’ll put them away. Shall we go play a game?”

“No!” Oscar cried, wriggling to be free of her arms, “Noooo, mummy read!”

“Yes, mummy will read her books later on.”

“NOOOO! Mummy read _now_!!”

He successfully worked his way free of her grasp, Aziraphale bending a little to shorten his fall, and he once again tried to lift the book.

“Oh…” Aziraphale breathed, realising he wanted to be read to. She picked up the book. It was a copy of Shakespeare’s comedies. She chuckled, “Perhaps a bit heavy linguistically for you…” Oscar looked at her in confused hope. Aziraphale smiled, “But they are your daddy’s favourite Shakespeare plays. Come on, little one.”

They curled up together on the sofa, Oscar in Aziraphale’s lap, following her finger across the page as she read the words aloud. He got her to pause and repeat some he liked the sound of, and echoed them back to her. Eventually Oscar dozed off against Aziraphale’s chest and, placing the tome down next to them, Aziraphale wrapped her arms around him and settled down for a nap. 

Crowley poked his head around the door and grinned as he saw the pair snoozing. He snuck in and gave Aziraphale a kiss on the head. She stirred, opening one eye, and smiled up at him.

“Off out?”

“Yeah, it’s Aubrey’s end of term parent’s evening at school.”

“Oh Heavens!” she whispered, “I quite forgot!” She looked down at Oscar, flat out on top of her. He looked positively angelic when he was asleep. She bit her lip and looked back up at her husband with ocean-coloured doe eyes. Crowley laughed quietly and leaned in to kiss her properly. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own,” he smirked, planting a gentle kiss on Oscar’s head before heading out into the hallway for his coat.

The school was overly bright and open, and to Crowley it looked a little too much like someone with a deep-seated passion for rainbows had been let loose in Heaven. Aubrey’s classroom was golden yellow, and she pulled him inside by the wrist, pointing at the walls and saying, “Look! Like your eyes!!”

Crowley laughed, and scooped her up. “I guess it is,” he chuckled, leaning in to rub his nose against hers, “Have you had a good day today?”

“Yeah!”

“What did you learn?”

“Uhhh… We learned how to say the days in French.”

“You…what? Already??”

“Yeah! Uhh _lundi, mardi, mer- merc- mercdi, jeudi, vendredi...di, samdi, di…munch.”_ She grinned proudly and Crowley gave her a squeeze.

“Well then, _ma_ clever _petite chou_ , shall we go talk to your teacher?”

“Yeah ok.”

The other waiting parents were standing around the room, examining their children’s work on the walls and chatting to each other. Most of the children sat in the middle of the room quietly colouring in or doing homework. Aubrey stayed with Crowley as they approached the teacher’s desk.

Miss Dalrymple was a young woman, probably only a year or two out of being an NQT, and she somehow always managed to look a combination of happiest-human-alive and stressed-beyond-reason.

She looked more the latter as she whipped her gaze up from her notebook to the pair in front of her, “Ah! Aubrey Crowley. Wonderful. Mr. Crowley have a seat.”

“Please, call me Anthony.”

“Anthony,” she smiled as he sat. Aubrey climbed onto his lap.

“You know, you can go do some colouring in if you like, Aubrey?” the teacher said softly.

“I’m okay,” Aubrey grinned, shuffling back to lean against Crowley’s chest.

“Alright,” Miss Dalrymple flipped through her notebook, “Well I suppose you’ll want to know her test scores? She’s done quite well given that she’s one of the youngest in the class – she scored, uh, let me find it…”

“Woah, hang on,” Crowley held up a hand, “You’re testing them already?? First French and now this!” He pulled a silly face of shock at Aubrey and she giggled. He continued, “Listen I – I don’t care if she’s failing everything at this age. I’d rather know how she’s getting on – is she happy, is she fitting in ok?”

“Oh…” Miss Dalrymple looked petrified, her notebook pages clasped in her whiteknuckle-grip hands, “Um… no one’s asked that before. Uh...”

“Daddy, I changed my mind, can I go colour in?”

“‘Course you can, princess.”

“Thanks.” She pecked him on the cheek, a sloppy little kiss, and slipped off his lap to join the others. Crowley turned to watch her go and saw a few of the children greeting her, offering colouring pages and crayons to share, Aubrey chattering away to them. 

He turned back to the desk, “Looks like she’s doing just fine with them.”

“Yes,” Miss Dalrymple smiled, still unsure what to do with her hands now her notebook wasn’t required.

“And she’s ok in class? She behaves?”

“Oh, well, yes. She always remembers to say please and thank you.”

“Hmm that’ll be her mother’s influence,” Crowley snarked.

“Almost perfect manners. But quite a chatterbox. Asks an _awful_ lot of questions.”

“Sorry?” Crowley frowned.

“It can derail the lessons sometimes,” Miss Dalrymple chuckled, but Crowley remained stony faced, “Every sentence out of my mouth she’s got a question for. I’m glad she’s inquisitive, but perhaps you might have a word with her about it? Even if she just saves the questions for the end of the lesson? Then we can stick to the plan.”

“The _plan_?!” Crowley snarled.

“Uh, yes,” she gave a nervous smile, “The term plans for learning. Here I can show you if you like, that way maybe you could— - ”

“No,” Crowley stood, abruptly pushing the small seat back, making a horrendous grinding noise against the cheap flooring. All the parents and children were staring at him. “I’ve heard enough.” He stalked over to the colouring table and bent down to Aubrey, who was beginning to look a little teary. He wondered how much she had overhead in this small room.

“Hey kiddo, what’ve you been colouring?”

She rubbed her nose and passed him the piece of paper, mumbling, “I coloured it like you, daddy.”

It was a picture of Superman, but with auburn hair and yellow eyes, dressed all in black. Crowley’s mouth wobbled and he bit down on the inside of his lip. “Thank you, sweetheart, I love it. Shall we take it home and stick it on the fridge?”

She nodded and turned to say goodbye to her friends. 

“Happy Easter,” Crowley drawled at the room as they walked out.

Aubrey was unnaturally quiet as they walked through the never-ending corridor that ran down the school, past the green room, blue room, indigo room, violet room and finally the stark white entrance. The receptionist waved goodbye to them, but Crowley was barely seeing straight, wanting to repaint every wall black in this hellhole.

It was only during the drive back that his rage started to dissipate, mostly because he realised he was doing 80mph through residential streets with his daughter onboard, and he promptly slowed down to closer-to-legal speeds.

They pulled up to the house and turned the engine off. Crowley moved to get out but heard a little squeak next to him. He turned around to a sight that made his heart start hammering in his chest.

Aubrey was crying, but not loud-kid-crying, when they’ve fallen over or want attention. No this was the worst kind of kid crying – silent, proper crying. 

“Princess, what’s wrong??” Crowley leaned over to unbuckle her and scoop her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered.

“What for?? You haven’t done anything wrong! Miss Dalrymple said you were doing great.”

“I – I – I heard her s-saying that I a-ask too many q-q-questions,” she sobbed, her breath starting to come in hiccups, “And it r-ruins her pla-a-a-an.” Crowley’s chest was cracking open. It was almost worse than Falling. He squeezed Aubrey in a tight embrace, her wet face pressed into his neck as she sobbed, every cry wrenching the pieces of Crowley’s heart further apart.

When she finally began to settle, her breath shaky but a little more even, Crowley leaned back and looked at her, wiping a thumb across her wet cheeks. “Now, you listen to me, young lady.”

She set her mouth in a line, just like Aziraphale did when she was reconciled to something, but it wobbled and her eyes began to water again.

“Don’t you _ever_ let _anyone_ tell you that you’re asking too many questions, ok?” His voice cracked a little and he steadied himself by planting a kiss on her forehead. “You hear me? Asking questions is a good thing. A great thing. It means you get answers and you get smarter. Although you’re already far too clever!” He booped her on the nose and she giggled, scrunching it up. He swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked her in the eyes again. “So you ask as _many_ questions as you want, yeah?”

She nodded.

“Yeah?” he repeated, smirking at her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, half-smiling back.

Crowley squeezed her and gave her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek, making her squeal and try to wriggle out of his arms. They hopped out of the Bentley and made their way back into the house, and Aubrey ran upstairs to change before they ate.

“And wash your face!” Crowley called after her.

Aziraphale swanned out of the kitchen, Oscar on her hip holding a pocket copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, seemingly engrossed.

“Now I _know_ he’s too young to be able to read that, surely?”

Aziraphale shrugged, leaning in the kiss Crowley. “It seems to be keeping him quiet. Dinner’s nearly ready. How was the parent teacher evening?”

Crowley bristled, “Yeah, um…not, uh…” 

Aubrey appeared at the top of the stairs in her favourite princess dress, her face scrubbed pink, and a tiara on top of her half fallen out ponytail. Crowley grinned, his heart beginning to stitch itself back together. 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he whispered to Aziraphale, and ran to the bottom of the stairs. He made a trumpet fanfare noise and then stood up straight, yelling across the hall, “PRESENTING HER IMPERIAL ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS AUBREY EVE CROWLEY OF THE KINGDOM OF EDEN!” 

Aubrey lifted up the front hem of her dress far above her knees and descended the stairs with a clumsy elegance. Crowley extended a hand to her as she reached the bottom and she took it daintily. “This way, your royalness,” he said, and they swept gracefully into the dining room, past Aziraphale who curtsied and Oscar, who was too engrossed to pay them any attention.

“What’s for dinner?” Aubrey asked.

“Lamb and vegetables.”

“Like baby lambs??”

“No, it’s just called that, they’re really sheep.”

“Oh. I don’t like sheep so that’s ok. What vegetables?”

“Uh, carrots…and…”

“Where do carrots come from?”

“Oh, um… the Netherlands I think.”

“Why?”

“Guess it’s a good climate for them.”

“What’s a climate?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 Crowley had allowed her to continue her “wine parties” with grape juice. Within a week, he had given up on the carpet cleaner removing the stains and on talking her out of the whole idea and instead covered her bedroom floor with a waterproof sheet and a large cheap deep purple rug. [return to text]


	6. Tuesday 25 December 2029

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas reunion - Shadwell and Tracy come for Christmas dinner, and a Godson and an ex-Antichrist drop in too.

Santa stood on the doorstep in the rain, “HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!” he cried in a Scottish accent through a thick polyester beard.

“Uncle Shadwell!!” Oscar cried, leaping at and winding the old man before he could even set foot through the door.

“Alright, alright, laddie, you got me, you got me! Get off!” he cried, peeling Oscar off him and pulling his beard down under his chin, “I suppose you’re both getting a little old for this now.” Oscar let go only to plough into Madame Tracy behind him, who was dressed as an elf and holding a large bag of presents. Shadwell laughed and turned to Aubrey, nodding his head, “Miss Aubrey.”

“Sergeant,” Aubrey grinned, saluting him.

“Hello flower,” Tracy cooed, wrapping Aubrey in a tight hug and leaving a big lipstick kiss on her cheek. 

“Hi auntie,” Aubrey smiled, wiping at her cheek with the sleeve of her Christmas jumper. 

Aziraphale appeared from the living room, putting new batteries into the dancing snowman. “Sergeant Shadwell! Madame Tracy! Oh, how marvellous you’re here, you both look wonderful.” She put the snowman down on the side and gave Shadwell a hug.

“Aye, you, uh, you look, uh…” Shadwell ventured, nervously eyeing the mistletoe above the door.

“Oh, honestly,” Tracy shoved him out of the way and embraced Aziraphale, kissing her on both cheeks, “You look beautiful, my dear. No one would ever think you’ve had two children.”

“You are far too kind, you wonderful woman. Come in, come in, please. Crowley is in the kitchen stressing over the goose.”

“I AM NOT STRESSING! I’M HAVING A MOMENT, THAT’S ALL!” came the distant shout down the hall.

“Smells wonderful,” Tracy smiled. 

Shadwell and Tracy had utterly spoiled the children with presents, and they had a lovely hour of running around the living room, Aubrey brandishing her new toy sword at Oscar, who leapt onto the furniture, opened his spellbook and proceeded to banish Aubrey to another realm[8]. Once things were under control in the kitchen Crowley appeared, perching on the arm of the sofa next to Aziraphale. He wouldn’t accept any praise about the Christmas tree having not only survived but flourished into the most luxurious and verdant Christmas tree in all London.

“Don’t,” he snarled, “It’ll get complacent.”

About an hour before dinner there was a knock at the door, and Crowley ran to answer it.

Warlock Dowling smirked as he looked his ex-nanny dead in the eye, “Hey, Nanny.”

“When the Hell did you get so tall??” Crowley cried, and grabbed the young man in a tight hug. He was drenched, his long black hair sticking to his cheeks. “It has been _far_ too long.”

“I know, uni’s been…” Warlock scoffed, “I was gonna say Hell but…”

“Honestly, it doesn’t sound far off. Come on in, everybody’s in the living room.”

Warlock snuck in, only to be leapt on by the two children and knocked backwards onto the sofa. 

Not ten minutes later, Oscar shrieked and pointed out of the window, “Look! It’s snowing!!!” It was. Huge snowflakes fluttered and dashed past the window, the ground already covered in a layer of snow, and soon you could barely see outside.

“That wasn’t forecast…” Shadwell frowned, setting his sherry down and habitually pondering whether witches were about. Tracy patted his arm and passed him the plate of biscuits.

Aziraphale and Crowley glanced at each other and both dashed to the door. There was a blast of wind as they opened it, a thick shower of snowflakes blowing into the hall. A golden-haired young man stood on the doorstep. The mistletoe above them seemed to grow and bloom, the leaves greener, the berries whiter and fuller, and their home looked idyllic, lit in an orange candlelight glow[9] to contrast the freak blizzard outside. 

“Hi,” the former Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness smiled, his former Hellhound sitting obediently at his feet.

“What d’you mean ‘hi’?! Come here!” Crowley cried, and both he and Aziraphale pulled Adam in for a hug. The children appeared at the door and both fell on Dog with an excited cry, Dog content to have ear scratches and belly rubs. 

They all crowded into the living room, perched on the arms of chairs or sitting on the floor and caught up. Warlock’s parents were both well, Thaddeus had moved up in the current administration and Harriet had a very popular blog about successfully raising a family in a political environment.[10] Warlock had been glad for a chance to come back to England when he got accepted at King’s College.

“My major is in business management, but I’m honestly thinking of changing to law. Or politics. I don’t think it really matters as long as I get a degree in the end.”

Adam’s parents were visiting his dad’s sister in Swindon this Christmas, and were meeting him back in Tadfield tomorrow. Pepper was on her third gap year, trekking somewhere in South America. Brian had started a food industry apprenticeship at 16 and was working his way up in a London restaurant. Wensleydale had gone straight to university at 16 on a full scholarship, and was already happily working with his father as a chartered accountant.

That just left Adam. “I don’t really know,” he shrugged with a content smile when Shadwell asked what he planned to do with his life, “I don’t want there to be a plan. I quite like the idea of leaving it open. See where things take me. I do want to travel, see some more of the world.”

Shadwell seemed content, if perplexed, by the response and sat back in his chair to doze off. 

Later, squashed around the miraculously extended dinner table, they tucked into the food, chattering to their neighbours and every now and then leaning across to tell Crowley how great the goose was.

“What did you get from Santa?” Warlock asked the children.

“Santa’s not real,” Aubrey snarked.

“Santa’s a societal construct,” Oscar corrected, “created by the retail industry to perpetuate the ideal of the ‘good’ consumerist child and discourage the ‘evil’ independent child. More than that, it encourages children to blindly trust a stranger breaking into their house, and it guilts parents into keeping up the myth for fear of breaking ‘childhood innocence’. All in all, it’s a stupid idea.”

Warlock’s jaw dropped. “How old are you??”

“I’m seven and a half,” Oscar said.

Adam cackled, “I like this kid! Hey, what do you make of the Bermuda Triangle?”

“That they’re letting people believe it’s aliens to cover something else up.”

“Do you like magazines?”

“Yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 It was not, in fact, a spellbook, but his brand new copy of _The War of the Worlds_ , and he was reading a passage backwards in lieu of having any actual spells to hand. The banishment was, therefore, unsuccessful, but the whole performance unnerved Shadwell to no end, and he had an extra glass of sherry to steady himself.[return to text]
> 
> 9 Despite there not being a real candle anywhere on the premises. Aziraphale had utterly gone off them since the day of the intended Armageddon.[return to text]
> 
> 10 Warlock, still predominantly cared for by secret service agents, found this very amusing and liked to create anonymous accounts to troll her in the comments section.[return to text]


	7. Tuesday 26th August 2031

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Aubrey's 11th birthday, and Aziraphale and Crowley have to deal with hosting their first sleepover party.

“Crowley you _cannot_ be serious!!” Aziraphale shouted as they pulled back onto the drive. Aubrey was sitting on Crowley’s lap in the driver’s seat, her giant birthday badge and tiara still on, and was steering the car all by herself while Crowley gently drove. They had circled the cul-de-sac several times before Aziraphale had come out looking for them and realised what was going on.

“Oh _come on_ , angel. She’s practically an adult!!” Crowley shouted over the blaring _Best of Queen_ CD.

“She’s _eleven!!_ ”

“If the son of Satan himself can come of age enough to end all of creation at eleven years old, then my daughter can drive a car. Now, princess, look down here at my feet, see these pedals? So, this one makes the car stop, and this one makes the car go, and...let’s not worry about that one right now. I don’t think you can quite reach them yet… how about you tell me when to press the stop and go ones?”

Aziraphale threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and went back inside to clear up the mess from the birthday party. It had been a fun afternoon, with a disco in the front room.[11] Aziraphale had performed her magic act,[12] and then they had ordered pizza for everyone. The parents who hadn’t stayed had been by an hour ago to collect their children. Only three children remained now, Aubrey’s two best friends from school who would be sleeping over tonight, and one of Oscar’s friends from Cubs, so he wouldn’t feel left out. 

The two girls were happy and occupied with a game on the console in the living room. Aziraphale checked in to see if they wanted any more drinks or snacks, and they politely asked for some more lemonade before shooting two characters in the head. Aziraphale winced.

“Oh it’s ok, Mrs. Crowley,” Pippa piped up, “They’re NPCs.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale smiled, having no idea what on earth that combination of letters could possibly stand for.[13]

“Yeah we only kill NPCs and noobs,” Ginny grinned, shooting another one, a violent spatter of blood hitting the screen.

“Naturally,” Aziraphale grimaced, wondering what a ‘noob’ was, “I’ll get those drinks for you, girls.”

“Thank you, Mrs Crowley!” the girls called sweetly. Aziraphale shuddered with horror once she was out of sight.

Once she had sorted the girls out and peered through the window to check the Bentley was still in one piece, she popped her head into the study to check on Oscar and Isaac. 

“Ok boys?”

“Forsooth!!” came the reply from Isaac, who was peering at the open _Full Works of Shakespeare_ on the table between them.

“ _No!_ ” Oscar sighed, hitting Isaac with his plastic toy sword, “You can’t say ‘forsooth’. Only rich people say ‘forsooth’. You’re supposed to be poor.”

“I don’t like being poor,” Isaac whinged.

“But it means you get to be funny! All the poor characters are always funny. I’m King so I have to be boring and serious but you get to make jokes and comment on what I do!”

“Hmm. Can I have a sword?”

“Maybe later, when I tragically die. But not to fight with, only to make jokes with.”

Aziraphale suppressed a laugh, asking, “Any drinks, boys?”

“Prithee, good woman, hast thou any mead?” Oscar asked.

Aziraphale scoffed, “Verily, gentles, I hast nought but the aerated juice of fine lemons.”

“Hmm. Lemonade is cool.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks mum!”

“Thanks Mrs. Crowley!”

Once Aubrey and Crowley returned, they made tea and put a movie on for the children. Crowley and Aziraphale sat in the kitchen for ten minutes of much needed peace while they wolfed down their own food. It was going to be a long night. They could feel it in their bones.

At 21:00 all the children went upstairs to put their pyjamas on. 

At 21:15 Aziraphale brought everyone hot cocoa.

At 21:25 Aziraphale was scrubbing cocoa out of Oscar’s carpet.

At 22:30 everyone was told lights out and go to sleep.

At 23:17 everyone was reminded to go to sleep.

At 00:05 the girls put music on and woke the boys up.

At 00:12 Aziraphale came out and put the boys back to bed and turned the girls’ music off.

At 00:30 the music went back on.

At 00:32 the stereo found itself locked in the pantry downstairs.

At 00:33 a very grouchy Crowley had strong words with the girls about calling their parents.

At 00:35 Oscar and Isaac wanted a drink.

At 01:12 Pippa was sick, and Crowley actually did have to call her parents to pick her up.

At 01:40 everyone was put to bed all over again.

At 02:15 the house was finally silent, and a very highly-strung Crowley was wide awake.

Ginny and Isaac were picked up early the next morning, with very polite thank-you-for-having-me speeches from them both, clearly drilled into them by their parents. Oscar and Aubrey both curled up on the sofa and dozed off despite the cartoon channel blaring.

“They’re exhausted, poor things,” Aziraphale yawned.

“Ngk,” Crowley grumbled, his hair sticking out in every direction, great dark circles framing his amber eyes.

“I do hope,” Aziraphale whispered, “That is… I want them to have friends, obviously…”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Crowley echoed.

“But I do really hope this whole sleepover thing doesn’t become…well, a _thing._ ”

“Or if it does, please God, Satan and anyone else who cares to listen,” Crowley drawled, “let it be at some other poor bastard’s house.”

They woke the children up for a late morning walk around the park, thinking the fresh air would do them all some good and wake them up. ‘Invigorating’ was the word Aziraphale used. Less than an hour after lunch the four of them were piled together on the long sofa, Aubrey on top of Aziraphale and Oscar curled into Crowley, all fast asleep. 

Their stomachs woke them just before teatime, and Crowley ran to whip up something simple with the leftovers, and they all ate quietly.

“Um, Mum? Dad?” Aubrey said as she finished a mouthful of cold pizza, “You know my sleepover?”

“Yes, darling?” Aziraphale said, glancing over at Crowley who was looking nervously back at her.

“It was fun.”

“Oh good, I’m glad,” Aziraphale forced out a smile, side-eyeing Crowley again.

“But I don’t think I want to do it again.”

Crowley barely managed to restrain himself as he mimed a celebration while Aubrey was looking at Aziraphale. 

“Of course, darling, that’s fine.”

Aubrey turned to her father, who instantly stopped fist-pumping and silently cheering, and nodded solemnly, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder, “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

“It’s hard enough having to think of things for Pippa and Ginny to do on break time at school, and that only lasts half an hour. I had to think of things for them to do for…” She started to count on her fingers and gave up when it got higher than ten, “For a lot more hours than that!”

Crowley chuckled, and turned to Oscar, “What about you, little one? How was your sleepover?”

“Brilliant!” Oscar grinned, “Can Isaac come back next weekend? We want to learn Hamlet.”

“Of _course_ he can, sweetheart,” Aziraphale said loudly over the sound of Crowley groaning and smacking his head off the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11 The only party attendee who remained on the dancefloor until the playlist repeated itself was Crowley, who was predominantly doing what could only be described as “embarrassing dad dancing” but with a bit more hips. Aziraphale was however both proud and embarrassed to discover her husband knew all the moves to [_5, 6, 7, 8_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhTiL1PcqdU). [return to text]
> 
> 12 All the doves survived this time without occult intervention.[return to text]
> 
> 13 Non-Plussed Criminals? No Pity Corpses? Nerds Playing Cruelly? She would have to ask Aubrey.[return to text]


	8. Friday 31 October 2036

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey has a date, Oscar and Isaac enjoy Halloween, and Aziraphale and Crowley can't wait for it to be over.

_“_ She’s not old enough to have gone on a date,” Crowley grumbled, peering through the curtains again.

“It’s not a date, it’s a Halloween party.”

“Yes but she went _with a boy._ And I know all the terrible things that can happen at Halloween parties. I think I started half of them and took credit for the other half. I don’t want her hanging around with the wrong people.”

“For Heaven’s sake, Crowley, she’s _sixteen!_ That poor boy has been interested in her for at least two years. Or was it three... When did she play Battle of the Bands at school?”

“Eager little son of a rotting pustulent— - ”

“Crowley, please sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

“But they said they would be home by nine.”

“Yes and it’s half past seven. They have only been gone for an hour. _Sit down_.”

The doorbell rang and they both groaned loudly.

“I _told_ you to get away from the window! Even the tiniest hint of light and they think you’re open for business,” Aziraphale griped, “I’ll get it.”

Crowley considered the therapy costs for the last group of children he had answered the door to and acquiesced.[14]He heard the faint inane cry of “TRICK OR TREAT!” as he sat down in the armchair with a grumble.

Every second of the next hour and a half seemed a year long, and Crowley felt he had lived his long life out over again waiting for Aubrey to come home.

Oscar and Isaac had come home an hour in, making Crowley leap eagerly from his seat, visibly deflating when he saw it wasn’t Aubrey.

“Nice to know who your favourite child is, dad,” Oscar drawled, lifting his witch mask to stick out his tongue, surreptitiously swearing at his father around his pumpkin bag. Crowley smirked and swore back from behind the arm of the sofa, but caught Aziraphale’s stern gaze. Sometimes it felt like she had eyes everywhere. 

“Still getting sweets then?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Oscar sighed, “Not as many though.”

“The Kildale house said we were too old for trick-or-treating,” Isaac pouted, his voice muffled behind his clown mask.

“And the Jones’s thought we were there to cause trouble.”

“But I think we’ve got enough to get some decent cavities,” Isaac said, pulling off the rubber mask to reveal hair stuck up at even scarier angles, “Can we get a bowl to tip them in?”

“Knock yourselves out,” Crowley smiled as the boys raced into the kitchen and moments later dashed up the stairs with a precariously full bowl.

“Are they gaming tonight?” Aziraphale asked a few minutes later, without looking up from her book.

“Nah, I bought them some movies.”

“Oh?”

There was a blood-curdling stereo scream upstairs, followed instantly by the shrieks of two teenage boys. Aziraphale had almost leapt out of her chair, her poor book fallen onto the floor. 

“What on earth did you buy them??” she snapped, bending to pick up the injured book, straightening its pages.

“Nothing they haven’t already been watching at sleepovers for the last 4 years.”

“I… that’s what they _do_ at sleepovers??”

The chatter and noise of trick or treaters in the cul-de-sac died down just before nine o’clock, leaving a ghostly peace broken only by the wind occasionally ripping through the trees. Even the boys’ film seemed to soften, or perhaps just their reactions to it, and soon Crowley was dozing off against the wing of the chair, the demon impersonators forgotten, his parental worry simmering gently in the back of his mind.

The slam of the front door woke him so suddenly he fell out of the chair. Aziraphale had already dashed out of the room and Crowley could hear Aziraphale’s soft voice cooing soothing words. He scrambled to his feet.

“Oh my darling, come here, what happened?”

Aubrey was sobbing in Aziraphale’s arms, mascara running down her face in streaks, her black nose and whiskers smudged and her cat ears wonky on top of her sprayed-black pixie cut. She tore them off and threw them across the hall, a louder sob wrenching Crowley’s heart as she did. He was down the hall and wrapped around them both in less than three strides. 

“Who do I have to kill?” he snarled. Aziraphale whacked him on the arm, but Aubrey choked out a laugh amidst her sobs.

“How did you get home?” Aziraphale asked, noting the absence of James.

“Ginny’s sister came and got us after we rang her.”

“That was very responsible, well done for not walking home in this state.”

Aubrey nodded grimly and wiped her cheeks. Her hands came away streaked black.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she deflated, and her bottom lip wobbled again.

Aziraphale went to berate her for her language but caught Crowley’s eye and nodded. A point for later, not right now. “So what happened with James then?”

“James didn’t want - ” Aubrey began, and sighed as she started to tear up again. Smearing more of her makeup across her face she took a shaky breath and spoke fast and in one breath. “James didn’t want to go with me, not really, it turns out he’s been paying attention to me all this time just to make Gabrielle jealous. It was her that he was really interested in, and when she turned up to the party alone, he…ditched me.” 

“That’s it, I’m going to kill him,” Crowley said simply, and moved towards the door. Aubrey grabbed him and tugged him back in against her. Her face crumpled, and she looked over at Aziraphale and squeaked out, “I _really_ liked him, mum.” 

Oscar had been slowly making his way down the stairs during this speech, holding two empty glasses. He looked at the three of them and set the glasses down on the side, moving to squeeze in between his parents to hug Aubrey. The four of them snuggled in closer and Aubrey’s sobs began to subside.

“I don’t know what happened, or who messed up your night, but you’re far too awesome for them,” Oscar said against her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she croaked.

He wriggled out of the cuddle and grabbed the glasses off the side. He shot one last look at her, a devilish glint in his eyes. “By the way you look like shit.”

“OSCAR HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR— - ”

“ _You_ look like shit.”

“Aubrey, really you’ll be a bad influence on h—- ”

“Fix your face – oh wait, too late, it’s stuck like that.”

“OSCAR ANTHONY CROWLEY YOU GET BACK HERE AND APOLOGISE TO YOUR SISTER RIGHT NOW!”

“Ooh you got full-named, better run!!” Aubrey was laughing now as Aziraphale stormed after her youngest child. She stooped to snuggle into her dad’s chest, and he tenderly kissed the top of her head. She was as tall as him these days and he didn’t get many opportunities for kisses anymore.

“You ok, princess?”

“Hmm. Not yet. I will be.”

“Good. You sure you don’t want me to go rip that James kid’s throat out?”

“No, dad,” she laughed, “Too much paperwork.” Then her face saddened a little again and she mumbled, “I guess I just wasn’t good enough for him or something.”

Crowley lost his temper all over again and was storming towards the door, a tirade of stuttered rage echoing in the hallway. A gentle hand squeezed Aubrey’s shoulder and she turned to see her mother with a serious expression.

“You are _always_ enough,” she said firmly, her ocean eyes sparkling above her soft smile, “The most important thing to be is yourself. Just as _hard_ as you can. And the right person will love you for being _you_.”

Aubrey’s mouth wobbled, “Thanks mum.” She looked back at her dad and laughed, wiping her nose, “I guess you two are the perfect example of that. Bat-shit crazy...”

“ _Language…_ ”

“And Mary Poppins personified.”

“No that’s really more your father…”

“You’re like yin and yang. But you love each other for it.”

Aziraphale smiled, adoration bubbling in her chest as she watched her husband, who was still ranting, his arm stuck in an inside out jacket sleeve, one shoe refusing to go on his foot.

“I guess I better not tell him Becca Grimhope spiked my drink too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s been asking me out for months and I guess she got desperate or something.”

“I see,” Aziraphale pouted, wiggling, “No excuse all the same.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t making one for her, I think it was a really shi- _silly_ thing of her to do.”

Aziraphale patted her daughter on the arm, steering her towards the kitchen knowing that she had set Oscar off making them all soothing cups of tea. She had just heard the kettle boil and click off. “I still do Dance Fitness with her mother. I’ll have a word.”

“ _Mum_ … just don’t say it was me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. Your father may have been the one assigned the job to convince clan leaders to steal cattle, but I was the one who actually did it. I can be quite deceptive and persuasive when I want to be.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14 Crowley could not be described as patient, and Halloween was a particularly testing time for many humans, never mind for occult beings. A demon having to watch various Satans, Adams, Eves, Beelzebubs (never accurate) and, most blood-boiling of all, ‘Sexy Angels’ parading around their street in varying states of undress was beyond offensive. The tipping point had been when he had answered the door early that evening and been accused of being dressed as a “basic sexy vampire”. A Saint wouldn’t have put up with this sort of misrepresentation. So tonight, after the fourth group of half-dressed pre-teens dared to bang on their door and greedily grab handfuls from their minimal candy supply, Crowley decided to educate the fifth group on what a demon really looks like. There may have been Hellfire involved. Aziraphale ordered him to repaint the scorched front door at the weekend. [return to text]


	9. Saturday 25 December 2038

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey returns from university to find an early Christmas surprise, and the family and their friends enjoy one more Christmas together.

Aubrey had arrived home a week ago, exhausted, with a Scottish twang to her accent. 

They had driven all the way up to Edinburgh with her in September, the Bentley so packed with things no one could see in any direction except forwards. It was a miracle they made it in one piece. Aziraphale left her with the textbooks she needed, enough tins to survive a second Armageddon, and a voucher for a self-defence class. “Now I know things can still go pear-shaped even if you know these things, but it will make me worry a little bit less about you being _so_ far away.”

“Yes, mum.”

“And remember – walk on lit streets, even if it takes longer.”

“I know, mum, I will.”

“And careful getting into taxis cos even those nowadays can be – ”

“Mum, you’re getting yourself worked up. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Crowley left her with a tearful kiss on the cheek and not-long-enough cuddle, a mug that said  _‘Remember whose daughter you are and straighten your crown’_ , and a literal crown to go with it.[15]

Aziraphale had picked her up from the train station the Saturday before Christmas, and resisted the urge to comment on how thin she’d become, how tired she looked, the vivid shade of Santa-suit-red she had dyed her auburn hair. She was just glad to have her home. 

They chatted idly about her course, the friends she was making, the societies she’d joined. She talked at length about her trip to Glasgow to visit Ginny there, and Aziraphale smiled as she listened, pulling onto the drive.

Oscar flew out of the open door before the Bentley had even stopped, leaping across the hood of the car.

“DON’T YOU DARE DENT MY CAR!!” Crowley yelled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

“He’s still into parkour I see…” Aubrey side-eyed her mother and smirked. Oscar yanked open the door and leaned in to hug her.

“Hey nerd.”

“Sup loser.”

“Totally didn’t miss you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Aziraphale shook her head, getting out of the car. 

Crowley came down to help Aubrey collect her bags from the boot, giving her a rough cuddle and messing up her hair. “What the hell is this??” he laughed, taking a lock between his fingers and examining the colour.

“I’m trying something _new_ ,” she swatted his hand away and stuck out her tongue.

The foursome moved back indoors. Aubrey went to head into the living room but both her parents leapt in her way.

She took a step back, eyeing them both, “Ok you two got a whole lot weirder since I left…”

“No,” Oscar sighed, swinging dramatically on the end of the banister, “They’re just as weird as they always were.”

Her parents were looking at each other, and her mother had that sparkly-eyed, tight-lipped-smile look that meant she was thrilled to pieces about something.

“Guys?? What’s wrong with the living room?”

“We sort of got you an early Christmas present,” Crowley said, a lopsided smile creeping onto his face.

Aubrey’s eyes darted about as she thought. There was that new Canon camera she’d been desperate to get her hands on. Or a new leather jacket maybe? Like her dad’s one? Or…

“It’s not a puppy or something is it?? I swear to Heaven and Hell if you’ve replaced me with a puppy I will summon the worst possible - ”

“They haven’t replaced you with a puppy,” said a familiar voice behind her parents. They barely managed to step aside before Aubrey pushed past them.

“Ginny?” she breathed.

“Hi.”

“But I thought you weren’t coming home for Christmas??”

“My parents got some time off. Although they fly back out on Christmas eve unfortunately, but your parents said I could come here then. And stay.”

“I – bu– wh– but – I th– and y–” Aubrey stuttered, looking between her beaming parents and Ginny. 

“Sorry I’m not a puppy.”

“You are _so_ much better than a puppy!” Aubrey exclaimed and grabbed Ginny by the jumper, tugging her in for a kiss.

Oscar silently wretched and shuddered as he made his way up the stairs, muttering, “Doesn’t even have the decency to be under the mistletoe.” 

Now, a week later, everyone was seated around the living room waiting for dinner. An unforecast snowstorm raged outside, and somehow made the room that much more cosy and pleasant. 

Shadwell’s hearing had started to go a few years ago, and their conversations were often punctuated by shouts of, “WHAT LADDIE?? SPEAK UP AND DINNAE MUMBLE!” Tracy sat by him keeping him topped up on tea and biscuits, repeating snippets of conversations to him to keep him in the loop.

Warlock’s jet-black hair was short now, gelled into a modern style suitable to American politics. Adam on the other hand looked somehow wilder, his blond curls passing his shoulders, his bright blue eyes vivid in the candlelit room.[16] Aziraphale thought, with a delightful blasphemy, that Adam actually looked far more like the Western depictions of Christ than the real Christ had done. If only those painters knew, she thought, hiding a heretical smile. 

Oscar sat on the floor by the fire, playing with ornaments on the Christmas tree and chatting with the two men.

“What subjects are you doing?” Warlock asked.

“Philosophy, Politics, English Language and Computing.”

“Good man,” Warlock raised his glass, “We’ll make a politician of you yet.”

Oscar scoffed, rolling his eyes and swatting at one of the baubles on the still verdant tree[17], “I don’t know. I’m thinking about joining the college newspaper.”

“Oh?” Adam sat up, his interest piqued.

“Yeah,” Oscar shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, “I was reading your articles, Adam – dad gets the magazines still. They’re really interesting. I don’t think I’ve read any other magazine where they actually tell you what’s _really_ going on.”

“Urgh,” Warlock wretched, “You’re both far too honest for politics.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Adam grinned, clinking their glasses together. He leaned down to clink his glass against Oscar’s Coke can, “What was your favourite one then?”

“Hmm… Oh I just read your article where you went undercover in the American Senate to find out about that bill where they were buying that land but it wasn’t really for a park it was for - ”

Warlock choked on his drink, “That was _you_?”

Aubrey and Ginny were in the loveseat, a tangle of limbs in garish Christmas jumpers, whispering conspiratorially to each other. Tracy leaned across to ask them about university, and they both grinned. They moved forwards in the chair, talking louder so Shadwell could hear and join in as it suited him. Crowley smiled from his perch on the end of the sofa as he watched Aubrey’s face light up as she talked animatedly about her studies, her eyes never leaving Ginny’s face for long. It reminded him of the way Aziraphale’s face seemed to glow from within. 

Aziraphale’s face looked like that now as she watched the assembly, leaning on the doorframe behind Crowley.

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Crowley whispered, nodding towards Oscar, once the quiet little boy, now holding his own in an adult conversation, and Aubrey, no longer that tearful little girl in a tiara but the very image of a confident young woman, holding the rest of the room in awe as she gesticulated wildly, telling a story. 

Aziraphale visibly teared up. She wiggled, pursing her lips, “For once, I think we were competent.”

Crowley snorted, “Makes a change.”

“Anyway, I came in here to say dinner’s ready.” She placed her hand on Crowley’s shoulder and stepped properly into the room, opening her mouth to make the announcement.

“Come get your chow!!” Crowley announced before her, hands to his mouth.

“I’m getting the wishbone!!” Oscar called.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!!” Aubrey yelled, shoving him down onto the sofa and sprinting into the dining room. 

They watched the chaos as their odd little family dove on the food, chattering and laughing together. Aziraphale surveyed the scene – the politician, the renowned journalist, the journalist-to-be, the happy young couple, and the elderly couple. And them. She had an odd feeling that these Christmases were coming to an end. Perhaps not the end, exactly. Just that they would change. Aubrey and Oscar might not be here every year now. They would have more exciting places to go, other people to be with, and she was so happy and so sad about that all at once. Her mouth wobbled and she pressed her lips together. Best make the most of it, then.

Locking eyes with Crowley, Aziraphale saw a similar expression mirrored in his face. To think the Serpent of Eden would have made such a loving father and husband. She smiled and grabbed him by the jumper to pull him out into the hall.

“Wha– ” was all Crowley got out before she had pulled him to pin her up against the wall, her soft lips moving against his. Breaking away she sighed contentedly and leaned her forehead against his. 

“What was – ”

“Hush,” she whispered, and pecked his lips again. Her eyes twinkled, “Merry Christmas, dear boy.”

“Um – ngh – yeah. Yeah. You too.”

Crackers popped and laughter broke out next door.

“Come on mum!” Oscar called, “You’ll miss out on the parsnips!”

“Dad!! Can we swap hats, this one clashes with my hair?!”

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale chuckled, “Never a moment’s peace!”

“Later,” Crowley promised, kissing her hand, a devilish glint in his eyes.

She squeezed his hand in return and led him into the dining room, “Somebody had better have saved me some parsnips!”

“Alright where’s this clashy hat I need to have words with??”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 It was gold and adorned with snakes. She wore it for Halloween dressed as Medusa and won the Student Union’s Best Costume prize of free drinks for the rest of the academic year. Crowley framed the certificate.[return to text]
> 
> 16 Aziraphale still didn’t own any candles; but she had to admit she did love the way her home looked on the occasions when Adam came to visit at Christmas.[return to text]
> 
> 17 It was the longest living potted Christmas tree in all of London. It still looked in its prime after 18 years, and Crowley still vehemently opposed accepting any praise for it.[return to text]


End file.
